Tag Archive: poetry


Kissing a Kia was a nice ride,
A Pelvic glide;
Not a fender-bender no.
I drove a Pontiac at that time;
Then a Mustang.
She once wore horizontal back and white stripes,
We would make out sometime in my car.

Kissing Kia;
So how did that start?
Must have been those copious love letters,
Which I still find when looking for something else;
She penned them while in her high school classes.
Giving her a lift home,
Keeping her border secret
Impressed by my loyalty I guess,
Similarly needing a true friend was I,
She was not a drive-by.

Kissing Kia,
Coming, or better put,
Stopping-by my Counselor office,
Pulling me near in an embrace,
Very sexy she and I couldn’t avoid that face.
Well put-together by the love God Venus,
Body belied her age or another from the assembly line;
It was all I could muster not to think with my penis.

Kissing Kia,
How I wanted to hook-up,
Yet I couldn’t as I was thirty-something
While like the old Sam Cooke Song,
“She Was Only Sixteen…”
Only half of those lyrics applied;
She was one smart cookie,
An intelligent older man drawn
While unsung will sensibly realize.

Kissing Kia was not fake.
Had she bragged to a friend however,
Would have been a Daily News headline cover,
I did not want to make.
Though her tender, well-built body
I yearned to take.

Kissing Kia drove to express her desires,
In no uncertain terms;
More mature than many ladies my own age,
And those guys of her generation;
Her flirtation taught me an important unknown page.
Why so blessed was I with this decision test?

Kissing Kia,
Upon a time of the whip-appeal era,
She is still Babyface alright with me.
A Kia with an Optima Sportage Soul,
French-kissingly Nero Forte,
Mashina I would still love to drive.

Kissing Kia
During period change in my office,
All the way lovingly Kool;
Love you you fool!
Wanted to mount that vernon.

Kissing Kia
As years pass,
Both much older.
Never forgetting those boobs nor that tight ass;
Our Fantasy Island unfulfilled.
Yet so long as we live,
None but us know which embers of
Burning passion lasts.

 

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On-shore intentional,
(prayer)
Mid-week deep thought therapy meditational;
(Dependable incoming waves)
Positive, personal and focused,
(Stay)
Demons of Doubt cast away,
(Strong)
Settling Sea reinvigorates me.
(Tough)
Otis Redding watching the tide
(Disciplined music)
Mature enough to finally be an adult;
(Centered)
Still much of an only-child kid at-heart;
(Safety)
Keeping my head “on the swivel” on the stealth.
(Rebelliously streetwise)
James Baldwin’s “The Fire Next Time”
(Healthy)
Start my day with H2O Green tea,
(detox)
Vitamin and antioxidant augmented;
(Wealthy)
Pay myself first and I need another gig now!
(Banker)
Find a corner as ‘Aunt’ Nashville ‘second Mom’,
Della recommends I pray;
(Spiritual communication)
Alive so long as the sun rises and desires;
(Good habits)
Mama used to say.
(Timeless advises)
It is the calm-before-the-storm…again dammit.
(Cherish downtime)

Cicadas

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You know its August

When you hear the Cicadas sing

Making that unique creepy sci-fi sound

As they flutter their wings.

Vibrating the air and buzzing in the trees.

In rural areas you see the holes

They emerge from underground;

Leaving moth-like carcasses

Frozen in time from which they escaped.

Their scary symphony is a reminder

A mid-summer night’s scream;

Cicadas remotely and sonic are

Pretty benign until you,

Notice one taking a ride

Upon your shoulder with

Them big, bugged-out eyes!

Oh my Gosh, they will shock you.

Cicadas, dog days of summer insect,

Orchestrating background noise;

Summer clicking and ticking;

Annoying Bugsy raiders.

In September the Crickets out-sing Cicadas.

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Where I work there is not enough street parking,
The company I work for created a small lot,
Which sits next to the concrete one for the executives.
The bed of the worker’s lot is grey gravel stones.

One chilly autumn morning I backed the car in off of the street,
I got out heading to the trunk to retrieve my leather jacket.
That is when something golden and shinny caught my eyes
I was quick to identify it as jewelry.

Surely they were crushed by tires upon all of those stones!
Still attached to the little plastic thing used to display in stores,
On the reverse side was the price tag.
Even this was not too soiled to clean – I did;
Meaning these earrings hadn’t lain there for very long.

I picked them up,
Their shape reminds me of the sign for infinity;
The measure of time I will care for thee.
For now they adorn my office cubicle.
Showing them to some female coworkers,
“Must belong to ‘Beyonce’ “, one said.
She was referring to the rather stuck-up,
Asian-looking, double-breasted receptionist.
She thinks she is “all that” and is not pleasant.

Often praying and I wish you were here.
I could offer these earrings to you just for fun;
You would reject them as not real gold or second-hand.
“Costume jewelry” is the term I always heard mother use;
I believe you would appreciate it is the good thought that counts!

Knowing your ear lobes are not pierced,
I guess I will save them for you anyway.
When I picked them up,
They reminded me in another new way,
Of the past gifts you’ve sent to me;
All of which fit to the “T”,
Even when personally you had not met me!
And how my ears long for the ring of thy voice.

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There once was a radio station slot that was dull,
Too many youngsters were cursing on the air.
The FCC dug the Vandy college campus station null.
Until a community volunteer named Gull
Produced a show named for a bird of the Sea,
That went on to become one that lives
In the WRVU radio hall of fame in infamy.
“Seagulls Over Nashville” was his name.
Conservative and down-home religious was his bent,
When not rocking-out judiciously on the air.

Now on sea-video for the first time,
It is another of his claims to fame,
Since the institution sold its soul and license to NPR
Into shame and meetings about it notwithstanding,
Turning talent out with a boot to the ass;
Faustian caring not about youthful human creativity,
Nor forming terrestrial trusts into perpetuity.
The Gull often squawks, “Not Urgent”
So that we do not take it seriously.

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[With apologies to those who enjoy my poetry (or scorn and mock it) for taking so long between sharing my posts due to working a daily routine which includes helping my eighty-nine year old mum while I learn that New York City is not the place for my future with Nina.
I am on vacation from that world as I post these creative words from that neglected other aspect of my loyal inner self.]


By Pebble Bay Beach

Don’t grow cold on me.
Although in life,
There is war and strife;
Hold onto the cures that might,
Give you peace at night.
Such as me being your man,
Who will more than suffice.

Do not…grow cold on me.
For now almost twice a fortnight,
Upon our collective breast,
This silence is cast against winds
Though they may change directions,
My course is consistent and steady;
Yet, shaken by your sudden surprise absence.
So that when Our Father’s blessing finally comes,
The means to import you and yours;
I will be ready.

Clutch the dreams of your heart.
Even tighter within your fighting fists
Knowing each day we awake;
It carries a blessing and a risk.
A song by Neil Diamond enters my mind,
“Love On The Rocks” lol

Don’t…grow cold on me,
It is embarassing to see!
Allowing me to journey alone like a rudderless boat;
Without word or reason,
When others are gone;
In the disorienting foggy dawns,
That disclaims territory of inevitably changing seasons.

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honey-moon

Seldom does “Friday the thirteenth” and the June full lunar moon coincide as it does this year into what they call a “Full Honey Moon”. I just had a glimpse of it as I prepared the trash in the alley,stopping by to check on my eighty-nine year old mother!

Having resisted the melancholy all of this torrential rainy, humid day after a treacherous work week, it has finally gotten the best of me and I have to express some of “Who I Am” visa v one of my favorite and legendary Rhythm and Blues groups, The O’Jays. I have written about them elsewhere herein my blog, but never included this obscure one [song] and wonder now, fondly, with all of us getting older, if they even are a performing group anymore? I pray so while knowing that “Father Time” lectures over our skills as his clock ticks. So the “full honey moon” means that we have the best chance now to all be gone soon according to prophecies!

http://sploid.gizmodo.com/no-human-has-seen-tonights-honey-moon-in-almost-100-yea-1590096626

So “Who Am I?” To question or feel insecure or maybe on the cusp of declaration?
Like Popeye The Sailorman, “I am what I am, and that’s all that I am.”
I just was strong,
Then I became weakened by loneliness.
Emboldened by prayer and faith,
I reclaimed that I am aware;
The unseen realm working in-favor of my goals,
Frustration notwithstanding,
Strong declarations demanding.

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Who are YOU?
These days, do you enjoy common sense?
Can you stand the test – of time?
I know of one who is sublime;
Reaching deeply into your soul,
I pray that you find someone and who you are,
Before your bones grow too old.

This lunar conjunction has not occurred in over one century;
Therefore calls into question whether we will ever fulfill our destinies.
Music is the only thing that can make this right while she is so far away from me.
Tears near both my eyes…

Here I am again in this mean old town
And you’re so far away from me
And where are you when the sun goes down
You’re so far away from me

So far away from me
So far I just can’t see
So far away from me
You’re so far away from me

I’m tired of being in love and being all alone
When you’re so far away from me
I’m tired of making out on the telephone
And you’re so far away from me

So far away from me
So far I just can’t see
So far away from me
You’re so far away from me

I get so tired when I have to explain
When you’re so far away from me
See you been in the sun and I’ve been in the rain
And you’re so far away from me

So far away from me
So far I just can’t see
So far away from me
You’re so far away from me
​Forever,

~Naphtali​

We will overcome.
You will comment?

Image

I watch as:
Someone’s tragic windblown umbrella;

Ambles the edge of concrete and asphalt,

Like a drunk crab trolling along

The beach tidal borderline.

Imagine I am not at the bus stop.

 

I close my eyes on the commuter train.

Dreaming a snow crab voice-over

I once read for Red Lobster.

A beach bird, umbrella and then me at the

Bus stop again trying not to get,

Blown down the curb of life’s boulevard;
Walking the best that I can,
Often lost, alone and crabby.
Pushing to catch that last wave

Towards the needed pot of gold.

 

These mercurial March mornings,

I awaken to a new bird-call of spring daily

In this old and new former place.

Where I exist in spite of failure’s frustration;

In the temporary solitude of the barrel of many Indies,

Among those of you who I do not want to see.

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Some Friends think that they can advise me;
Hell, I didn’t even ask their word!
No respect and I am almost sixty!
None have walked on my sidewalk nor in my shoes!
That is why I do not talk back to them.
Then they try to “back-channel” me;
I abhor them. Think I am stupid??
They’ve sabotaged their own plan.
I am at the age to manage my wisdom happily;
I defend my love just for you.

I am angered into writing this post,
By a well-meaning but misguided associate;
An almost-Benedict Arnold in our midst.

These same people bottle-up their suggestions,
Until they have to tell me to “forget” you with questions;
They all know nothing of our strongly built love.
Many we call here “haters” are envious of me,
They seek to deny my dreams apparently.
Why oh why do they while caring not to knowing thee?

All of the commonalities that we built.
I hold onto them strongly.
I saved every email to and from.
I am not the only one
To have ever loved, lost and loved the same woman again.

Yet you would think so,
By the amount of concealed jealousy and lack of help!
I ignore those detractors because of the true love we found.
A simple song is what I sing,
Swaying to the sweet closeness I still bring.
If not for monetary shortcomings,
We would happily be in bed right now!

When will the heavens bless us,
Why can’t we achieve swift togetherness?
I am not sure.
“Kak”, “Почему”? do we achieve the formula?
I know I am trying as my Mum is dying.
Needed to redirect money meant for you,
To push the detractors under their redress!
I try not to digress.

Please continue to believe I am an honorable man
Just hapless a bit more than I ever thought I would be right now;
With so many offers of “thousands” I can earn;
I sadly am from a business dysfunctional clan.
I will punch myself out of this paper bag!
Often I say “I will die trying!”
I write these lonely words as a sad lag.

So I write this because I wanted to talk to you,
Though I promised I would not until I paid my “I.O.U.”
That action is in the works!
Can not help myself wanting to reach to,
The ONE lady to whom all of my praise is due.
I do not rain on other people’s parades;
Why do the try to rain on ours?

Grand Aunt once said,
“You’ll be lucky to have as many real friends
In life as you have fingers on your hand;
And you will probably have fingers left-over!”

Hey, my special Freedom Angel!
It was two years ago around this time,
I knew that you were forever mine.
You proved to help me
You became my Freedom Angel.

I knew you were sent from the heavens
I learned how it feels to be truly enamored
With a special blessing in a woman
Who for so long I have searched!

I finally got it right;
I looked in the right place,
The Ukrainian country!
I found the best Slavic woman for me.
Now I soon will travel to have Inna at my knee.

You are still my ultimate destination, Baby.
I’m coming again!
I want you to know,
Whatever the problem or obstacle,
That you can depend on me because
You have divinely inspired,
I will find a way to solve it –
Just like I did with the Passport situation.

I live for that next day or night,
When I step from a plane into your gaze and then arms;
A first real kiss that we both have missed all these months.

Whatever time we have together,
Will be great!
It will will be worth the wait!
I Pray daily to Jah,
Allow us to get this thing together!
Before we are too old to enjoy each other youthfully!
“C’MON!!” Cosmic forces of prayer, Dammit!

~ by Naphtali with love.

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